


Silent Night

by Lyetta



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Christmas, Complete, Death Threats, F/M, More angst, Serious Injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:34:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 19,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21807499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyetta/pseuds/Lyetta
Summary: COMPLETEWhen a spare of the moment decision sends Rhys down the riverside path, his life is turned upside down by a beautiful woman in need of help.
Relationships: Feyre Archeron/Rhysand
Comments: 25
Kudos: 109





	1. Thursday 19th December

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't forgotten the sequel to A View of the Stars, I was just enjoying all the festive stories and wanted to write one myself. Unfortunately I don't seem to be able to write fluff... so here is an angsty fic set around Christmas time (close enough?)

**Thursday 19th December**

Rhys walked away from yet another shop window with a sigh. It wasn't the weather, clear blue skies in all directions and a cold, crisp wind in-keeping with the time of year. It wasn't thoughts of Christmas and related shopping either, he loved spending time and exchanging gifts with his unconventional family.

He just felt off. If he was being honest with himself, he would admit that he had been feeling off for a while now. And irritatingly it wasn’t something that he could easily to articulate, even to himself.

Rhys wondered if the feeling was simply due to being on the brink of yet another year ending and feeling like something was missing. It felt like longing, like a physical absence had started to grow inside of him and nothing he did could fill that space.

Rhys mentally shook himself. He had everything he could want for: a job he loved, family and friends who loved him, and a home he had lovingly refurbished over several years. 

As he walked, a sudden impulse had Rhys turning down a quiet side street, away from the crowded shopping quad, with its permanent stores around all four edges, their shop fronts all looking in at a seasonal covered market in the middle. He missed the buzz of Christmas excitement as he walked away but not the bustle. 

Rhys knew this city as well as any resident of Velaris, probably better than most. It didn't take him long to weave a route to the bank of the slow-flowing Sidra, where he hoped the peaceful stillness would settle his mind and the passing water would take away his vague anxieties. 

The path he chose wasn't a direct route to anywhere so he didn't expect to encounter many people. He certainly didn't expect to find a girl - no, _young woman_ \- rocking ever so slightly from side-to-side as she stared at the Sidra. 

Rhys had never been someone to walk past or look the other way if a person needed help; he could recognised distress when he saw it.

Rhys felt his heart clench. This picture was all wrong. Here stood a young woman, early twenties at most, wearing a grey jumper. But beneath that jumper Rhys thought at first she wore a short dress, totally unsuitable for the weather, until he realised it was made from thin cotton - more likely a nighty than a dress.

The rocking, he realised, was because she was stepping from foot to foot – on feet that were bare and bleeding in places. Worse still, where the sleeve of the jumper had caught on her elbow, the fabric had pulled up to reveal a bruise in dark blue wrapped around her wrist. And, high on one leg, more bruises, this time older and fading to yellow. Rhys could see the shape of a hand...

Yet, despite all this, she was beautiful, if in a haunting way. Her long brown hair blew gently in the breeze, crossing her pale face and briefly hiding her sharp features. For a moment Rhys stood speechless.

And then she turned, sensing his nearness, with wide eyes full of fear.

It was a Christmas jumper, Rhys noted, in a soft grey that matched her eyes.

Her mouth opened and closed soundlessly for a moment. Then, "Don't take me back."

Her voice was a whisper so light it could have been blown away on the wind. 

"No,” he agreed and stepped closer, “You mustn't go back." Though she tensed as he moved nearer, the woman didn't move away as he'd feared she might. Slowly, Rhys removed his coat and draped it around her shoulders. His greater height and the length of the coat both helped to cover her down to her knees. 

She stood still, only her eyes shifting to follow his every movement, still unsure of him. "Don't take me back," she repeated and Rhys wondered if she said it more for herself than to him. 

"I won't take you back. You're free now." 

"Free now," she echoed. 

Rhys smiled, though he felt like hitting something for what had been done to her. "My name is Rhys, well Rhysand actually, but you can call me Rhys," he told her while toeing off his shoes and reaching down to pull off his socks one at a time. He'd considered giving her his shoes but her feet were so much smaller than his; his socks would have to do. "Your feet must be cold, why don't you put these on?" 

Rhys held up the socks, brown with reindeer on them, a festive gift from his cousin Mor. But the woman only stared back at him before saying, "Free now."

Rhys felt his concern grow, both because of the state she was in and because he doubted that she had gone far from wherever she'd been kept. What Rhys really wanted to avoid was the bestower of those bruises coming to look for her. 

"That's right, free now. Lift your foot?" With some encouragement she did lift her foot and watched, bemused, as Rhys pulled his socks on over her cold feet. "There, that's better." He stood and smiled for her again. 

The day, that had felt calm and carefree not so long ago, now felt threatening. Rhys didn't know what the right thing to do was but he knew the _wrong_ thing was to leave her here. 

"Will you-" he hesitated, not wanting to frighten her. Keeping the urgency out of his voice Rhys started again. "Would you like to come home with me? You can get warm and we can call someone to come get you?" 

It was the wrong thing to say.

"Don't send me back! Don't send me back! Don't send m-" 

"OK, OK," Rhys called out, panicking as she stepped back - away from him and closer to the bank of the Sidra. Without thinking he reached out and took her gently by the hands. To his immense relief, she calmed. "OK. Just back to mine. I won't call anyone."

It felt to Rhys like a very long time that they stood, holding hands beside the river, before she nodded and he began to lead her down the path. 

He wondered if he should ask where she had come from, not wanting to accidentally return her. But he decided against it, it wasn’t worth the risk that he might panic her again. Instead he stayed aware of every change in her behaviour as they turned off the path and into a new road, one he hoped they would be able to get a taxi from. 

They were in luck and within ten minutes both were inside a taxi and away from all prying eyes, except those of the taxi driver. 

With the fear and adrenaline now reducing, Rhys could see that she her energy levels were fading fast. When they arrived at Rhys' town house and he worried briefly if he would need to carry her. Yet they made it inside, down the hall and into the sitting room without issue.

Once she was settled in an armchair, Rhys hurried upstairs for blankets. When he returned her eyes were closed and her lips slightly parted. Asleep. 

With a blanket placed over her, Rhys carried across a chair from the dining table and sat himself close enough to hear her breathing. Now finally calm, she was even more beautiful and he felt even more strongly that he could not - _would_ not - let anyone hurt her. 

Without touching her, Rhys leaned over to adjust the blanket, to keep the warmth in, and murmured, "What's your name, I wonder?" 

He didn't expect an answer but he got one anyway. "Feyre," she whispered without opening her eyes. 

Rhys felt his breath catch and felt his heart race. "You're safe now, Feyre," he whispered back. And he almost thought he saw the edges of her mouth tip upwards in a smile. But no, not quite. 

* * *

Rhys let her sleep for the rest of the afternoon but by the evening he began to worry that she would need food. He remembered how thin she had looked beside the river, how small she looked now curled up in the armchair. 

He dumped a can of soup into a pan and heated it through, wondering how best to wake her.

When the soup was done and decanted into a bowl, he carried it though. He was ready to call her name until she woke, but her eyes snapped open immediately as he entered the sitting room. 

"You're awake," he said stupidly and internally berated himself. 

"Yes. I am.” Her eyes were cautious as he took in Rhys and the soup. “Where am I?"

Rhys told her the name of his road and the part of Velaris they were in, then paused before asking, "Do you remember how you got here?"

"I remember you." It was all the answer he got and Rhys wondered if the heightened state of distress she been in meant that she didn't remember exactly what had happened. _Good_ , he thought, _that kind of fear is better forgotten_.

"I'm Rhys," he said, introducing himself for the second time. 

"I'm Feyre."

Rhys smiled, "Well Feyre, I want you to know that you can stay here as long as you need to or I can take you wherever you need to go." 

Rhys could see the little light that had been in her eyes starting to fade. "I have nowhere to go."

He repeated, "You can stay here," and when she said nothing more he held out the bowl. "I don't know when you last ate but you've been asleep for a while so I made soup." 

She nodded and took it from him. He watched as her long, narrow fingers wrapped around the bowl, seeking it’s heat. 

Rhys settled in a chair nearby, not wanting her to feel uncomfortable but not able to leave either. She broke the silence, "Am I wearing your socks?" 

He shifted, embarrassed, "Yes, you didn't have anything on your feet and you were cold-" 

He started to ramble but she cut him off, "Thank you… not just for the socks."

"It was nothing." 

"Not to me," she said, looking up at him from the soup. Their eyes held for several seconds and then she went back to eating. Rhys missed the eye contact from the moment she looked away. In fact, he wanted nothing more than to reach out and touch her, but he knew his touch was unwanted. 

He changed the subject, "When you've eaten, if you want to wash I can show you to the bathroom or if you'd rather sleep I've made the guest room ready." 

She stopped eating and looked at him again, considering. "I'd like to change my clothes." 

"That's fine, my cousin stays here sometimes and her clothes will probably fit you. She won't mind," he added quickly, before Feyre could object. 

She didn't object but her forehead furrowed. "You haven't asked me what happened." 

"It's your story to tell. And only when you want to. I'm happy to listen, Feyre, anytime. Especially if that would help. But the guest room is yours whether you talk to me or not." 

She said nothing but looked at him with eyes wide again, this time with disbelief. Eventually she said, "I'd like to sleep," so Rhys took her upstairs and showed her where to find everything she might need. 

When her door was closed and he was also in his room, Rhys sent a message to his cousin asking for more clothes, if she could spare them.

She sent back a tonne of questions, which he answered as briefly as possible: he had a guest staying who had nothing of her own and needed help. Eventually Mor stopped asking questions and agreed to drop off clothes the next morning, as he'd known she would - partly out of curiosity, he suspected. 

Then he changed and tried to sleep.

In the quiet darkness of his room, thoughts of Feyre kept him awake far longer than usual.


	2. Friday 20th December

**Friday 20 th December**

Dawn crept in through the gaps between the blind and the window frame, as he began to wake, illuminating patches of Rhys’ room but leaving the rest in shadow.

When he rolled out of bed a few minutes later and opened the blind the sky was a pale blue, a warning of low temperatures. Still, Rhys cracked the window open a fraction to feel the fresh air on his skin. 

He had remembered his guest within his first thought on waking. Actually, his first thought had been a worry - that she wasn't real, only a dream. His second thought was that she had left in the night and he would never see her again. 

So it was an effort not to open the door to the guest room as he passed. Instead he'd chosen to hope that she was in fact within and sleeping, and so stayed his hand. 

Rhys poured out a cup of tea and was about to start on his toast when he heard a soft knock at the door. 

Mor. 

"You're early." 

"I knew you'd be up. Besides, I thought your guest would want something to wear when she wakes."

His cousin dropped two large shopping bags by the door, took off her winter coat and shook out her long, golden hair before heading for the kitchen. Rhys smiled, knowing what he would find when he followed her. And sure enough, Mor was eating his toast while pouring herself a cup of tea. 

Rhys met her eyes, "Thank you. Feyre will appreciate the clothes." 

"Feyre." Mor repeated, smiling at the sound of the name and at this new piece of information. "So, are you going to tell me how you met her?"

"Nope." Mor looked like she was about to argue when Rhys held up a hand, "It's for Feyre to decide, she's been through a lot. I won’t take her right to privacy away from her."

Mor's face darkened with memories of her own past, always there just below the surface. Memories that included being used and publicly discarded by men. For a moment Mor wondered what _she_ would have done if Rhys had not been there to help her heal and was glad that the women upstairs had found him too.

"I’ll call you later, maybe you can come back and meet her. I think you'd like her." 

Mor looked at him carefully. "You clearly do." 

"It's not like that." 

"Mm hmm."

" _Mor_ , she needed help. I couldn't just leave her." 

"Oh I know you'd stop to help anyone who needed it. But that doesn't explain the look on your face when you're thinking about her." 

"What look? I…" He searched for something to say until Mor took pity on him. 

"Just don't fall too deep too quickly, cousin dearest." 

"It's not like that," Rhys repeated. But Mor only smiled as she headed back to the front door, taking another slice of toast for the road.

With her gone, Rhys found himself asking if there was anything in her words but in the end he brushed it off. He'd only met Feyre yesterday for goodness sake! 

* * *

Rhys made the most of the time while Feyre slept to tidy up around the house. It wasn't even his mess! Mostly. Mor and both of his adoptive brothers came round regularly but rarely left the place as they found it. 

They would all be round soon enough for Christmas and what a mess that would make!

As he tidied, his thoughts frequently drifted upstairs to where he hoped Feyre was sleeping peacefully. All the time, his attention was focused on the guest room door, waiting for any sign of movement. 

When the movement came, it wasn't slow and quiet as Rhys had expected. It was loud and hurried. The door was wrenched open and, light as she was, Feyre's footsteps could be heard as she rushed into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. 

Rhys was upstairs in an instant but outside the bathroom he halted, hearing the sounds of retching. He didn't want to make Feyre uncomfortable but when he heard a sob he decided that he’d waited long enough.

Gathering his courage, he knocked. "Feyre? Can I come in?" 

He heard a mumbled reply and though no individual words were coherent, Rhys felt sure the answer was a yes. Pushing the door open slowly, he entered. 

Feyre had collapsed against the toilet, her face burning red - from sickness or embarrassment he wasn't sure. She didn't look up at him. 

Carefully Rhys collected her hair and held it away from her face. He made sure not to touch her at first but when she didn't complain at his nearness, Rhys placed a hand on her back. Slowly he started to rub up and down, working hard to ignore how prominent her spine was.

She wore Mor's pyjamas; the two of them were roughly the same height but Rhys noted the way the material seem to hang off her body. He was beginning to comprehend just how thin Feyre was in comparison to his cousin. 

A minute of silence passed, the only sound being Feyre’s still ragged breathing.

When she finally turned away from the toilet, Rhys wrapped his arms around her. He did it without thinking, it had just felt like the right thing to do. Like a clay doll, she was stiff in his arms for a moment. Then, with a sigh, she leant into his embrace. 

"How about you shower and I make us breakfast?" He didn't care that he had already eaten breakfast or that it was nearly midday. He only wanted this to feel normal when it was as un-normal as it was possible to be. 

They were still strangers. Yet he wanted her to be happy and feel safe more than he wanted those things for himself. He would give up anything to see her smile. 

"Yes," she whispered. "Thank you, Rhys."

It was the first time she'd used his name and a warm feeling came to life in his chest. He felt the urge to pull her closer but resisted.

Rhys turned his attention to showing her how to use the shower and where to find clean towels. He also promised to take the bags of clothes into her room, so she could choose something clean to wear after. Though Feyre nodded, her eyes following every gesture, she said nothing more. 

In the kitchen, Rhys could hear the hum of the boiler as it heated water for the shower. He tried not to think about the woman _in_ that shower, was ashamed of the thoughts that passed through his mind - she had escaped something awful and now here he was having inappropriate thoughts! 

_She isn't here for you. She didn't choose this and when she’s well enough, she will leave and never look back._

Rhys scowled and took a sip of too-hot tea, relishing the burn to his tongue. He deserved worse. 

Rhys wanted to get Feyre to eat but he wasn't sure what she'd prefer or what her relationship with food was like. There was a chance her fragile body was _not_ linked to the person who had hurt her. He looked through every cupboard, mostly for something to do, and decided to let her choose. 

Upstairs, Feyre moved soundlessly from the bathroom back to the room she had stayed in overnight. At the foot of the bed there were now two bags filled with clothes, just as Rhys had promised. The guilt rushed over her once more. This man who knew nothing about her was risking more than he knew.

And she was letting him. 

That would be bad enough but he was also being so kind and caring. Somehow she had walked out of hell and straight into… _this_. A normal life.

Rhys was acting so calmly, like this sort of thing happened all the time. Like she belonged here. Picking out items of someone else's clothes only increased her feeling of being suddenly in another person's life.

Guiltily, she found herself wishing that this _was_ her life, not the hell she was running from and ultimately would be forced to go back to. 

Tucked down the side of one bag was a pack of brand new underwear, it brought tears to her eyes as she silently thanked Rhys' cousin for her thoughtfulness. 

Once dressed, Feyre followed the sounds of activity downstairs and through the sitting room. In the doorway to the kitchen she stopped, waiting for Rhys to turn around. 

When he did turn, a smile spread across his face and he said, "Feyre." The word just slipped out, he liked the sound of her name almost as much as he liked looking at her. "What do you feel like eating? I've got cereal, toast, I could do something with eggs or make waffles." 

At the word waffles her eyes, which had been looking past him at the far end of the kitchen, flicked to his. 

"Ah ha, waffles it is then," Rhys grinned and pulled out a bar stool for Feyre to sit on as he worked. 

Even though she said nothing, he chattered away as he retrieved things from various places, placed the waffle iron on the counter and set it to preheat, and then started adding ingredients to a large mixing bowl.

He told her about his family, their plans for Christmas, how long he'd lived in this house and what a state it was in when he moved here. She found the constant talk oddly soothing and realised, as she watched him cook, that Rhys was someone she could easily call a friend. 

The realisation was painful because to call him a friend would be to put him in danger. To be here at all was putting him in danger…

Feyre was about to get up and leave right then when a large mug of tea appeared in front of her. She looked up at Rhys, whose face had grown serious. 

"You're safe here Feyre. You can stay or leave, it's your choice but if there is anything I can do to help you, then I'll do it. You only need to ask."

Feyre felt her face crumple but fought off the tears. That he seemed to know her thoughts should have been unnerving but instead she felt reassured.

Looking at Rhys, she felt strongly that she was in the right place. And that was not a feeling she could easily remember having before.

" _Why_?" 

"Why what?" 

"Why are you helping me? You don't even know me." 

"Because I want to know you. The _real_ you. I want to see you get through this and find out who you are when you no longer need to feel afraid."

Tears fell from her eyes and Rhys wished he'd said less, been less honest, but she had looked so lost and alone. And he had, in fact, held something back: that he wanted her to know _him_ too.

He offered her kitchen roll in place of a tissue, which she took it gratefully, and said nothing more while she sniffed and dried her eyes.

Soon he was placing a stack of waffles in front of her as well as a selection of toppings. He smiled to himself when she opted for the syrup. Rhys ate his waffles standing up, waiting for the next batch to be ready. Sneaking glances at Feyre.

At first, she only moved a waffle round the plate; this went on for so long Rhys began to think she would eat nothing. Then, finally, she took a mouthful and after that she ate like someone who hadn't seen food for a long while. 

Subtly, Rhys added more ingredients to the mixture waiting to be cooked, and watched with pleasure as Feyre kept on eating. When she finally sat back Rhys decided to take a risk, "You have a healthy appetite for someone of your size." 

She looked back at him and said flatly, "You mean, how come I'm so thin?" 

"Just an observation, you don't have to tell me anything."

Feyre stared down at her empty plate without seeing it. "It's partly the nightmares, I guess. What happened earlier… that's not unusual. But also… I think he drugs my food. So eating less - well, it was a way to stay more in control."

"I'm so sorry Feyre. You shouldn't have had you make that choice."

They both sat quietly, lost to their own thoughts, until Rhys suggested they move to the sitting room and Feyre agreed. 


	3. Friday 20th December continued

**Friday 20 th December continued**

Rhys hovered in the doorway as Feyre settled herself at one end of the sofa. He put on music, thinking that Feyre would not want the pressure of a conversation, and after sending her a questioning look and seeing her nod, sat down beside her. 

But to his surprise the music faded into the background as they began to talk. Actually talk!

Even if she mostly asked questions and in a clumsy way kept the conversation away from herself, Rhys didn't mind. Here and there, Rhys began to see hints of her personality shining through, her intelligence and dry sense of humour.

When she drifted off to sleep, resting her head on his shoulder, his heart soared. 

* * *

A citrus-like smell surrounded her, when Feyre woke. To her shame, she found that she had been using Rhys' chest as a pillow, her face buried in his shirt and one hand clutching the fabric. All the same, she was reluctant to let him go. 

Rhys had been reading a book, or pretending to read, Feyre thought, as he must have been aware of her waking. That was another thing to like about him, how he let her untangle herself from his shirt with no comment. Like she so often fell asleep on him that it wasn't worth noticing. _If only._

Immediately, Feyre regretted the thought, regretted wishing herself into his life. _If you truly liked him, you’d leave._

Rhys, seeing her cheeks flush and putting it down to embarrassment, closed his book and looked for a distraction. 

"My cousin is coming round later, if that is OK with you?" 

"The cousin whose clothes I'm borrowing?" 

"That’s the one. Mor dropped them off this morning while you were asleep. She'd like to meet you." 

Feyre noticed the slight tension in his jaw, realised that this was important to him. "Yes, that's fine. This is _your_ home Rhys," she reminded him.

"While you're staying here it’s your home too." 

She twisted her fingers together in her lap, felt undeserving and muttered a quiet, "Thank you." 

A curtain of hair had fallen down as she fidgeted, hiding her face from view as he sat by her side. Rhys caught the hair between his fingers, twisted it loosely and tucked it behind her ear. 

"Your beautiful," he breathed.

He hadn't meant to say it out loud and was about to apologise when she looked up at him, her eyes full of the same longing he felt. 

But then every feeling seemed to drain right out of her. She wrapped her arms around her frail body and said, "I need to leave. Soon. I've stayed here too long already."

Before Rhys could argue against this, a banging at the door made Feyre jump to her feet. Her thin limbs tensed, trembling slightly. "It's OK," he said softly, "It's probably just Mor a little early."

But her eyes were still wide and dread seems to spread out from her, calling to the shadows and making the room feel suddenly darker. 

"Is there a back door?" she asked and his heart broke for her. 

"Yes, through the kitchen." Ignoring whoever was waiting at the door, he reached out and caught her hand, uncurled her fingers so he could hold it between both of his. He suddenly felt just as afraid and he wasn't sure if it was her fear infecting him or if this was a fear all of his own. "Don't leave. Let me check who it is. Please Feyre." 

She nodded but moved out of his reach, standing in the kitchen doorway. He knew she might leave now, without saying goodbye, but as he walked to the front door he hoped desperately that she wouldn't. 

The front door opened to reveal Mor, as he'd suspected, but also his brothers, one of whom was responsible for the overly enthusiastic knocking. 

"I'm sorry," Mor began, "I couldn't keep them away." 

"Why should we stay away? Even if you do have a guest, it's _Friday_." Cassian's voice was loud enough to carry to the kitchen and Rhys swore, imagining Feyre leaving forever because he hadn't thought to cancel the standing invitation for his family to join him on Fridays. 

“You should have checked,” said Rhys between gritted teeth.

“Since when?” complained Cassian, “We've never had to check before.”

"My guest isn't well. I'm sorry but you need to go. _Now_." 

"She looks OK to me," Azriel said, looking pointedly over Rhys' shoulder. 

Rhys turned and felt relief flood over him. There Feyre stood in the hallway, looking pale and wary but no longer afraid. Rhys smiled and for a moment completely forgot his family waiting behind him as he stared at her. 

"They can come in," she said and Rhys thought he detected a hint of amusement in her voice. 

"Great!" said Cassian, pushing past Rhys to introduce himself. And Rhys could only watch as Feyre independently managed meeting his whole family at once, maybe not with ease but with a fierce determination.

He saw her fists clenching and unclenching but she didn't try to run. When she caught him looking and saw his concern, Feyre’s lips twitched slightly and she rolled her eyes as if to say _you worry too much_. 

Mor took charge, telling 'the boys' to get started on the food while she and Feyre went upstairs. As they passed him, Rhys gave Mor a desperate look, trying to communicate all his thoughts without Feyre noticing. 

Mor laughed and put a hand on his shoulder. "Stop worrying cousin. Go and be helpful in the kitchen." Feyre looked between them and frowned, trying to make sense of this change in him since his family arrived. 

"Go on Rhys. I'm fine." 

The two women climbed the stairs and he watched them silently. There was no one else he would trust with Feyre right now and yet with her gone Rhys felt an emptiness that he didn't want to focus on. 

In the guest bedroom, Feyre made sure Mor understood how much the clothes had meant to her. How grateful she was. But she resisted the other woman's attempts to get her to talk, however well intentioned; the more Feyre said the more danger this family would be in. 

And the sooner she would have to leave...

That was beginning to weigh heavily on her. She knew that leaving Rhys would be hard now even after knowing him for such a short amount of time. Now that she’d known kindness she would feel its absence all the more painfully.

After an hour, in which Mor braided Feyre's hair and answered Feyre’s questions (mostly about Rhys and the two men now with him in the kitchen) they both went back downstairs.

There, the smell of food and the sounds of laughter lifted Feyre's spirits. And she decided that though she may not be part of this life for long, she would enjoy it while she could. 

They sat around the dining table, Feyre between Rhys and Mor - they sat together as a _family_ and Feyre would not have believed it possible to feel so accepted so quickly by a room full of almost complete strangers. 

Though she said little over dinner Rhys saw her expression constantly changing as she followed the conversation or when she fell into introspection. If she looked sad for too long, Rhys would ask her to pass a plate or he would tell her something ridiculous, yet true, about another person at the table. 

Rhys had told his brothers very little: that Feyre had got herself out of a bad situation and was staying with him for a while. She had brought nothing with her so Mor had given her clothes. He knew they were curious. Over dinner they wanted to ask her where she was from, what had happened - but out of respect for her privacy they asked nothing. 

They also respected Rhys' silently communicated wish for them not to stay long.

After food there was tea and coffee in the sitting room, a suggestion of a game (that was quickly shot down) and then everyone got ready to go. By 8:30 the house was quiet again. 

"They've left early because of me." It wasn't a question. 

"It's Christmas in less than a week. Then they will take over my house for two day straight. They can play games, eat, drink and laugh themselves silly then. Tonight I just want a little peace."

Feyre knew he meant the peace for her without him needing to say so. She lent gently into his side and his arm wrapped around her. It would be so easy to fall asleep like this, safe with him to watch over her. But she didn't feel tired.

Instead she felt suddenly brave and impulsive, so she said, "I was trafficked into Prythian when I was 18.”

She felt Rhys tense beside her but he didn’t speak so she continued, “I sold to a man when I arrived but I fought back. I was passed around a few men because I was 'difficult' but eventually I was sent back to the man who first took me from my family. And when he moved to Velaris he brought me with him, as his fiancé. I've lived with him since then. A few years I think."

Rhys' arm tightened slightly but Feyre didn't mind. She had expected him to push her away, that he still wanted _any_ contact with her was a success. 

She carried on, "In all that time, I'd never left his apartment. He would go out everyday but I was never allowed. I don't know what he does for work but I think he's still involved with trafficking, even this far from the border.

"He told me I was lucky - to have him and all the nice things he gave me. To have a home... He meant I was lucky after being with so many others that _anyone_ would want me. I believed him, I stopped fighting. But recently… I've found everything harder. I longed to be outside. And… away from him."

She swallowed and her hands curled into fists. Rhys rested his head against hers, not wanting to cross a line but desperate to be closer, to make it better somehow. 

"He noticed the changes in my behaviour and he got me drugs, tranquillisers I think. I never saw a doctor so I don’t know how he got the drugs. They made me feel ill. Numb. So I stopped taking them. But when he found out, he had them mixed in with my food, which worked... until I stopped eating… and then he got violent.

“I knew I had to get out but when I saw my chance and left… being outside was such a shock. Then I realised I had nothing, knew nothing - not even the name of this city. I walked but didn’t get far before I hit the river. I thought that was it - he would find me there and kill me. When I looked at the river, I wondered if drowning would be better. 

"And then you found me."

Rhys pressed his face against her neck, lightly nuzzling. When she responded by pressing closer too, his other arm pulled her into an awkward hug. 

"I am so _so_ glad I found you, Feyre."

She pulled back to see his face. "He’ll be looking for me. Being here… I-I'm putting you in danger."

"I don't care." He said it quickly, needing no time to weigh the consequences. "Stay, Feyre, as long as you want to."

She thought a little longer than he had before answering, drinking in the sight of him, the kindness and determination in his face. She felt her chest tighten and knew she didn’t want to leave him, but-

"I'll stay for now Rhys, but if he finds out where I am then I'll leave. And you have to pretend I was never here." 

Rhys gritted his teeth and nodded. Privately he thought, if it came to it, he would fight this man to keep Feyre safe. Whether she wanted him the same way he wanted her or not; he would fight to give Feyre the right to choose. 

"I'm going up now," she whispered and Rhys saw the bags that were beginning to form beneath her eyes. 

"Do you need anything?" 

"No, I'm fine." Feyre looked back at him and her lips were tipped upwards in a fragile smile, definitely sad but a smile nonetheless. Rhys smiled back and reined in the urge to run his fingers down her cheek. 

Instead he said softly, "Goodnight," and watched her walk away. 


	4. Saturday 21st December

**Saturday 21 st December**

Rhys was quicker on the second morning, finding Feyre in the bathroom again in time to hold her hair and stroke her back. As she stood back up, Feyre kept her eyes on the floor but took Rhys' hand briefly, squeezing it in silent thanks.

When she arrived in the kitchen a little later, the waffle production was already under way. Feyre gave him that tiny smile once again and he stood taller for it.

After both had eaten Rhys asked, "What would you like to do today?" Feyre shrugged but he didn’t give up, "What did you used to do, when he went to work, I mean?"

She chewed on her lip for a moment before saying, "I used to listen to music or sketch. Before him, I used to paint. But… I don't really do any of those things anymore."

Rhys considered. "Well, there are things we could do here but I think you need to be outside." At a sharp look from her, he tried to ease her fear. "Not in the city, it’s too soon for that. Could you see the mountains from your home?"

She nodded, "Yes, from my bedroom window." Her eyes glazed over slightly as she remembered. It was a view she had looked at so often, she'd almost forgotten it was a real place within easy reach.

"Would you like to see them up close?"

She nodded again.

"Excellent. I'll call for a lift, you go find some more layers because it will be cold out there."

While Feyre was upstairs, Rhys did call for a taxi but he also dug out an old notebook. Not a sketch pad but it had clear pages instead of lined, it might do. He found some pencils too and put them in a backpack along with two bottles of water and some food.

Feyre wasn’t long upstairs and the taxi wasn’t far behind.

In the car, Feyre visible shrank. She didn't know any of the roads, so she didn't know if they were driving towards his apartment or away.

Every face they passed was a potential threat and whenever the car slowed to a stop she had to fight the desire to duck out of view. Rhys seemed to understand, taking her hand and tracing patterns on the back of it with his thumb, distracting and soothing in one act. When he sensed her tensing more, he would tell her something about the mountain they were heading for and Feyre would focus on his voice until the feelings eased.

* * *

Rhys paid and agreed a time to be collected with the driver and then both he and Feyre exited through the same door, her hand still securely in his.

On the path, one which Rhys was very familiar with, they stopped to look up. The mountain was hidden in trees for a way and then seemed to burst free. The rock was grey in shadow but almost pink in the sunlight and sprinkled with patches of snow. Even higher, the summit was lost to the ever-changing ceiling of clouds.

Rhys looked across at Feyre and found her with eyes closed, head tipped back. Strands of hair that had come free from her plait now floated in the breeze. 

He didn't want to disturb her and anyway, he was enjoying the chance to look at her face, while it was totally relaxed for once. She caught him looking when she finally opened her eyes; he smiled apologetically but didn't look away.

"Shall we walk?" he asked.

"I--" she looked embarrassed, "I don't know how far I'll be able to walk."

Rhys linked his arm with hers, "My family has a cabin not far from here. Why don't we go there and then you can decide if you want to walk some more?"

Feyre nodded. So that's what they did, walking slowly and stopping ever now and then to look up at the mountain or around at the trees and wildlife. Everything she saw made Feyre stronger in a way that food alone could not.

At the cabin, Feyre gratefully received a hot drink and when Rhys produced the notebook she could have cried. Yes, there was a lingering concern that it had been 'too long' but the surroundings were calling out to be captured on the page; it felt worth the risk.

She settled quickly in a chair on the decking beside the cabin. Rhys offered her a blanket and when she accepted he stopped fussing he settled into his own chair.

While she sketched, Rhys alternated between reading and watching Feyre. This did not go unnoticed and after finishing an outline of the mountain, with others mountains in the distant background and the cabin in the foreground, she decided to sketch him. Feyre wondered if he would notice.

He did. The change in her expression caught his attention immediately: a mischievous glint in her eyes that he hadn't seen there before. As she focused on a particular detail on the page, Rhys left his chair and moved behind her.

That first look at her artwork took his breath away. She heard the faint gasp and turned, suddenly shy again.

"You're very talented," when she shook her head he leaned in for a closer look, "You are. I'd buy your work."

"That's because it's a picture of you."

"What are you trying to say?" Rhys said, his voice teasing and a spark in his eyes as he waited to see if she would take the bait.

Feyre raised her eyebrows and replied, "I mean, that you know you're good looking and would happily fill your home with pictures of yourself."

A grin spread across his face, "You think I'm good looking?"

"I meant _you_ think you’re good looking.”

“And what do you think, Feyre darling?”

She paused. “Objectively… yes you are." Her words only made him grin more. Feyre sighed in exasperation and closed the notebook. But Rhys saw her lips twitch.

The sun was beginning to set. A quick glance at his watch confirmed what he had been thinking, "We need to leave soon to meet the taxi."

Rhys didn't offer his arm on the way back but part way there Feyre slipped her hand into his anyway. His chest tightened and he had to press his lips together to stop himself saying something foolish.

* * *

The light faded slowly at first and then faster as the taxi wove through the heavily traffic, weekend Christmas shoppers most likely. It had gone dark before they arrived home. At the front door, much to Rhys' frustration, they were met by Cassian and Azriel.

"It's not Friday so what's your excuse this time?" Rhys didn't try to soften the irritation he felt.

"Let us in Rhys, it's important," begged Cassian.

Rhys was about to refuse when Azriel, in a low voice, said, "You need to hear this." The way his eyes flicked to Feyre and then back again made Rhys feel instantly sick.

He unlocked the door and let them all in.


	5. Saturday 21st December continued

**Saturday 21 st December continued**

Rhys stopped in the hallway, impatient to hear what had brought his brothers to his home for the second time in two days. Feyre was watching them all closely, especially Cassian who was bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet while avoiding her eyes.

"What’s happened?" Rhys didn't invite them through, he would hear whatever news they were bringing here with no delays. _Whatever bad news_ , he thought and immediately tried to unthink it.

"We were at the gym today and we were talking," Cass began but after a look from Az he corrected, "OK, _I_ was talking, musing really, while he was working out. I was thinking about-" he stopped, glancing at Feyre.

"About Feyre," Rhys prompted.

Cassian nodded, "Yeah. So, anyway, I was saying how bad life must be to run away with nothing, especially this time of year and…" He trailed off.

Azriel took over, "And a guy comes over to us and starts asking questions. Too many questions and all in a way that sounded like he already knew the answers. He was just testing us."

Feyre had gone white as a sheet and Rhys didn't want to risk her falling, so finally he gestured to the sitting room. Following as last of the group and making sure his true feelings were masked before facing the others.

"OK. What did you tell him?"

Cassian, defensive now, said, "I didn't _tell_ him anything-"

"What did he _overhear_?"

"Enough," Az answered, "Enough to know we knew Feyre and where she was staying. But nothing else, nothing specific. Your name never came up."

“Were you followed?”

“No.”

Feyre laced her fingers together tightly and tried not to think about how much she wanted to be sick. Instead, she thought about the walk to the mountain cabin - but that brief experience of happiness only made the prospect of losing it all the harder.

Rhys took charge. "So we need to get a step ahead, what did this guy look like?"

"We can do better than that, we know his name."

Rhys saw Feyre bite her lip and look hard at Cassian, waiting.

"Lucien Vanserra."

Feyre gasped and covered her face with her hands. Rhys moved to crouch before the armchair where she sat. Gently he pulled her hands down from her face. "You know him?" He asked softly.

"Yes, he's Tamlin's best friend."

Rhys had to work very hard to keep his features clear.

He moved slightly to make sure he was blocking his brothers’ view, and then, very slowly, he pulled the sleeve of her jumper up - high enough to expose the bruise around her wrist. "Did Tamlin do this?" he asked, feeling that he knew the answer but wanting to be sure.

 _His_ words had been quiet but her answer was barely more than an exhale, "Yes."

"OK," Rhys stood up to include Cassian and Azriel in the discussion once more. "Tamlin know where to start looking for Feyre but he doesn't know that she is here. And at least we know what he knows." _At least it wasn't Tamlin waiting at the front door when we got back from the cabin,_ he added silently.

"I'm so sorry," Cassian said looking between his brother and Feyre.

It was Feyre who answered, "It's OK. It was me who brought trouble here in the first place." She stood up and everyone could see how she shook. Rhys wanted to take her arm but he could see she wasn't finished speaking. "I need to leave now, before they arrive."

"No!" Rhys was vigorously shaking his head.

"Rhys you promised to let me go if they found out I was here."

"No," he said again, "No Feyre, I said I'd let you run if they found you here. But everything has changed now. Tamlin knows us. He knows you're with us and that we won't let him have you without a fight."

"But I don't _want_ a fight! I don't want anyone else to pay the price for me leaving!"

"There is no price to pay; you had the right to leave. But my point is that Tamlin will know you aren't without friends now. Maybe he'll let you go."

Feyre hung her head, "Then you don't know him very well."

"I knew him a long time ago." She said nothing and Rhys turned to his brothers, "Find out what he's doing, if he's planning anything." They both nodded and left, Cassian throwing one more apologetic look towards Feyre.

She collapsed back into the armchair, tears slowly starting to leak from her eyes. The exhaustion that now took her was part physical, from their day at the mountain, and part mental, from the fear at being found so soon.

"Stay until we know what Tamlin is planning. Please. We can keep you safe."

"Can you?" Her voice was so full of grief that Rhys made no reply but knelt down beside the chair.

He took her hands and held them. "It’s true that I only met you two days ago but I know you deserve more than the life you had with him. Please let me help you to get free so you can start again."

The tears fell more freely now, over her cheeks and dropping from her chin into her lap.

"This is your choice. I won’t stop you if you really want to leave. But I’m begging you Feyre, will you let me try to keep you safe?"

"And who keeps you safe?" she shouted, neither of them saw the explosion of anger coming. Back on her feet and glaring down at Rhys, Feyre felt her body hum with this new burst of energy. He mattered, she realised. If she really had a choice then she’d choose him. His safety over hers.

Rhys felt his heart stutter. He wanted to say something reckless but knew he couldn't burden her any more or make her stay through the use of emotional blackmail, she'd been manipulated enough by others. So he didn't say _I'm falling in love with you_. Instead he said, "How about we keep each other safe?"

At first she only gaped at him and then she nodded. It was all he needed.

Rhys stood and pulled her into a hug. That last spark of strength dissipated and he took her full weight, what little there was of it, as she slumped against him.

He turned and sat down on the armchair, bringing her down with him to sit on his lap. It was closer than they'd been before but they were both shaken by the last half hour. Rhys knew he needed the physical connection and from the way she was clinging to his jacket he could tell that the feeling was mutual.

So quietly, she whispered, “I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologise for.”

“I shouldn’t have shouted.” She let out a shaky breath, “I don’t know what the right thing to do is but... the last couple of days... I don't know, I've just... I’ve felt like I’m where I’m meant to be. Does that even make sense?”

Rhys hesitated, “Completely.” His pause had not been because he didn’t know what to say but because he had wanted to say _so much_ , yet knew he should hold back. For now.

He allowed himself to say a little more as he felt her breathing beginning to even out. “I don’t know why I took the riverside path on Thursday but I’d been feeling like something was missing and I needed space to think. And then I met you. And now I don’t feel like something is missing anymore.”

Her eyes were closed and she looked asleep, maybe that made him braver. “Feyre I think I was looking for you before we’d ever met. I think wherever you are, is where _I’m_ meant to be.”


	6. Sunday 22nd December

**Sunday 22 nd December**

They woke, still sharing the armchair and holding each other. During the night Rhys had considered carrying her upstairs, but the selfish desire to hold her close won out.

One hand had curled around his neck as she slept and the other was fisted in his jumper. Her head was resting right over his heart, close enough for him to drop a kiss onto, which he did, more than once.

If only it wasn't distress that drove her to him. Rhys felt that longing again, sharper now with her so close and yet miles apart. He’d meant what he’d said the night before – where she was, he was meant to be too. But he wanted more than friendship.

He’d wait, he decided. They’d get through this and then there would be time for Feyre to heal. Time to find out what was left between them when the fear was no longer there.

As Feyre escaped the clutches of sleep, she realised that the nightmares had never come. With everything that happened yesterday, it made no sense. She tensed momentarily, half expecting _this_ to be the nightmare. But waking in Rhys’ arms was no nightmare, more like dream come true.

So the only difference, she realised, was Rhys. He had kept the nightmares away. Could he keep Tamlin away too?

She rolled her neck and shoulders. Suddenly Rhys felt guilty for any aches he had caused by not taking her to her room.

"I'm sorry, I hope you don't ache too much today, I should have taken you to bed." Realising what he'd just said Rhys coughed. "I didn't mean-"

He was interrupted by Feyre chuckling. When he looked down, she was smiling up at him. His breath caught, this was a smile that stretched up to her eyes. _A real smile._ For him.

"Was that an attempt to get me into your bed? You'll have to try harder than that." And she rolled her hips on the word ‘harder’. She was teasing him and he had no come back. His body, however, was ready to play and he felt himself becoming hard beneath her. The spark in her grey-blue eyes told him that she felt it too.

"Feyre," Rhys sighed and closed his eyes to enjoy her weight on him before reality kicked in. "We need to get up," his words were soft but their meaning wasn't lost on her. Memories of yesterday evening flooded back through both of them.

Carefully Feyre climbed off the chair and mumbled something about changing before she disappeared upstairs. Rhys gave her a head start before going up to his own room.

* * *

The mood was much more subdued that day. Though they exchange looks more than once, looks that made Feyre’s insides warm and made Rhys remember the feel of her body against his, conversation between them was rare.

Mostly they waited to hear from Azriel and Cassian. Individually they ran through many possible scenarios, each more bleak than the last.

Feyre watched the clouds thicken and darken as the day went on. Rain was coming. She wondered what it would be like to stand in the rain; it had been so long she could hardly remember. Maybe she would find out soon.

Rhys tapped away on his laptop, watching Feyre whenever he could get away with it. He had updated Mor and checked in with Az and Cass but there was nothing yet to report.

He was worried. Feyre seemed determined to leave at the first sign of trouble and Rhys knew he would not go so far as the stop her - he would never keep her prisoner.

But he knew that losing her would hurt. Selfish though it may be, he hoped whatever feelings she had for him would be enough to make her stay.

* * *

He felt the stubble on his chin and sighed. "I'm going to be upstairs for ten minutes or so, will you be OK?" She nodded and he climbed the stairs, content with the most recent emailed update from Azriel: Tamlin was at home, on the other side of the city.

Feyre listened to Rhys' retreating footsteps and chided herself yet again for flirting with him that morning. _You know this won't go anywhere._ But knowing that didn't matter, it hurt anyway.

She knew that Rhys would help anyone in her situation, Mor had told her enough to be sure of that, but Feyre wished that she could be special somehow. She wished that he wanted her here in his home and not just because it was an honorable thing to do.

With him out of the room, Feyre pulled out the notebook and continued working on his portrait. She wanted it to be perfect in case she had to leave and this was all that was left. She would miss him, no doubt about it.

She hesitated in her shading as an echo of his voice passed through her mind. _There is no price to pay._ Would Tamlin ever see it that way? to him, she was his property. Would he even believe that she left on her own? Might he think that Rhys had stolen her away?

She shuddered and pushed these thoughts aside, thinking instead about what might be _after_ all this. If there was an after.

_Then,_ she thought, _I would be free to choose my own future._ And she knew without needing to voice it, either internally or out loud, that she would choose Rhys in whatever way he would allow.

The thought made her feel stronger, like the mountain air had yesterday. _Why shouldn't I be free to choose?_

That was the moment the knocking at the front door started. Not as loud as Cassian's banging but somehow more insistent. With Rhys upstairs, Feyre stood. On silent feet she crept closer to the door but as she approached, the knocking stopped.

"I know you're there Feyre. Open the door."

Feyre slapped a hand to her mouth to stop the gasp from giving her away. She tried to muffle her breathing too. Anything to make Lucien think he was mistaken and leave.

"Feyre, I'm just here to talk. I don't really want to break down your new friend's door and I doubt you want that either, do you?"

* * *

The sound of the front door opening reached Rhys even though the knocking had not. He grabbed a towel to wipe away the last of the shaving foam and hurried out.

His first thought was that Feyre was leaving without talking to him first. His second was that Mor had arrived and let herself in. He was not expecting to see Feyre facing Lucien and two men he didn't know but suspected worked for Tamlin.

He hesitated, not wanting to step in if Feyre was handling it – she must have opened the door for them after all. Hard as it was, he decided to watch and wait, creeping closer to be ready if she needed him.

* * *

"Feyre, it's time to come home. Tamlin is worried sick."

"That isn’t my home anymore. It was never really my home to begin with."

"Don't be ridiculous Feyre, of course it's your home."

"More like my prison."

"Feyre!"

"I wasn't allowed to leave Lucien, sounds like a prison to me." Lucien was clearly becoming uncomfortable, shifting on his feet and glancing and the two men with him. Feyre knew their faces but not their names, it was enough to know that they worked for Tamlin. But their obvious confusion from hearing her speak gave Feyre an idea.

_They don't know about me_ , she thought and continued with more confidence, "And you were never my friend and Tamlin was never my fiancé."

"Wait in the car," Lucien said to his companions but they hesitated, listening, and Feyre was showing no signs of stopping.

"He trafficked me into Prythian, he sold me and then bought me back when he decided he wanted to keep me."

"GO!" Lucien shouted and finally the two men did as he asked. "You can't say things like that Feyre."

"I can say what I want," Feyre said proudly, though her voice trembled, "I'm free now."

Lucien regarded her for a moment. "I don't understand. You're not well, being outside makes you ill."

Feyre laughed, it sounded slightly forced but it made the point. "Is that what he told you? It's a lie, Lucien, it was all a lie. I was outside for most of yesterday and I feel better than I have done in years!"

She could tell that he was beginning to question what he knew. She could tell that she was winning.

Clutching at straws now, he stepped over the threshold as he asked, "You want to stay here? With _Rhysand_?"

"Yes I do, for as long as he'll let me. Because he's kind and he makes me happy. I've been sleepwalking through my life for years but he's waking me up."

Desperate, Lucien tried again, "Come back with me, Feyre, let's work this out together." He made a grab for her hand and Feyre stumbled back to avoid him. Into Rhys.

Lucien looked up at them, Rhys with a hand on Feyre's shoulder.

"Hello Lucien. I can't say it's good to see you. Now, I think you've said what you came to say, so leave. Or I'll call the police."

Feyre stiffened at the mention of police but it did the trick on Lucien, he left with a final confused glance at Feyre.

As soon as the door was closed, Feyre felt her knees give out. She would have fallen had Rhys not been there to catch her. Gently Rhys lowered her to the ground until they were both sitting with their backs against the wall.

"Well done. You handled that brilliantly."

"You were listening?" she asked, anxiously running through the conversation in her head.

"Not for all of it. Enough to know you made yourself heard."

"He didn't know," she sounded almost sad.

Rhys found her hand and held it. "I'm not surprised. Tamlin brought you here as his fiancé, he didn't want people to know about your past. And it’s been so long, maybe he even believes his own lie now."

"Lucien was kind to me but he always did whatever Tamlin asked. I assumed he knew everything, is it worse if he didn't and never questioned how things were?"

Rhys exhaled heavily, "I don't know. But I don't think he told Tamlin what he heard from Cassian. I think he wanted to help get you home without a fuss. That's something."

"He will have to tell Tamlin now."

"Maybe," Rhys conceded. "But we'll be ready for him."

Rhys didn't mention the things he'd heard her say to Lucien about him. He held them in his mind as a treasured possession.

It was still early but Feyre needed to be alone. "Can I go to bed?"

Rhys squeezed her hand, "Of course. I'm going to wait up for Cass and Az, they're going to stay here tonight, so it's not just us. Is that OK?"

Feyre nodded and pushed herself up using the wall before he could offer her his help.

"Night," she called back from the stairs, her face pale and drawn. The contrast with the happy, laughing Feyre of this morning could not have been starker.


	7. Monday 23rd December

**Monday 23 rd December **

Cassian and Azriel arrived in the early hours of the morning with nothing of note to report. From what they could tell, Tamlin’s Sunday had been uneventful – ‘normal’ if they could say that without having anything to compare it to.

Lucien had not visited him at home but that didn’t mean that he hadn’t been in contact some other way. Privately, Rhys felt that the Fox might be delaying for fear of Tamlin’s reaction. If true, this did not bode well for him or his family.

Rhys wanted to hear everything, twice, but his brothers begged for sleep and Rhys relented. Cassian stretched out on the sofa, pulling a blanket over himself; Azriel took the armchair and was happy to use his coat to keep the heat in.

Though he was not tired himself, Rhys left them downstairs and went up, pausing briefly by Feyre’s door before going to his room. He was glad to have Cass and Az nearby, when Tamlin found out they were protecting Feyre his rage might be more than Rhys’ alone could handle.

He may have told Feyre to wait and see, even suggested that Tamlin might give her up without even an argument, but the Tamlin he had known in his college days was more likely to fight first and ask questions later.

He didn’t sleep.

* * *

Both brothers slept in late. Despite their late night, Rhys wanted them up so he made sure to prepare breakfast in the kitchen next door, loudly. But they still didn't wake.

It was coffee fumes that finally woke Az but only a well-placed kick ("Hey! That hurt…") woke Cassian.

Feyre could hear them, she had been awake most of the night.

Having gone to bed too early, she found herself wide awake from 3am. She’d heard Azriel and Cassian arrive but none of their conversation. Tempted though she had been to go downstairs and hear if Lucien had been to see Tamlin yet, she was still too raw.

She had learnt from her eldest sister how to hide her emotions behind anger - it was ok to shout but not cry; ok to let your temper get the better of you so long as you don’t let them see how you’re drowning in despair. But right then, she felt too much to be able to hide it. And she had no wish to lash out at the only friends she had in the world.

Interestingly, it had been a second nightmare free night. She had been plagued with bad dreams for weeks, ever since Tamlin's dark side had been directed on her - or maybe before… since she’d woken with a feeling that something was missing and had started pushing to be allowed to get out of the apartment.

Feyre listened to the comforting sounds of Rhys below and the initially quiet conversation in the kitchen. When Cassian woke too and she knew it was time to leave the guest room.

She dressed, went down and listened, without making eye contact, to the report from the day before. No news - was that good or bad?

* * *

The morning passed uneventfully, though Feyre flinched at every loud noise and Rhys followed her every movement anxiously.

A few days of food and friendship may have done much to restore Feyre but the weight of Tamlin's anger followed wherever she went. He wanted to take her out again, get her drawing, but all three had ruled that out until Azriel and Cassian knew what was happening on the other side of Velaris, at Tamlin's apartment.

Cassian returned to the townhouse at lunchtime with news, it was not, however, good news.

Lucien must have told Tamlin what he knew. From the still-forming bruises to his face it was clear that Lucien had suffered for not retrieving Feyre. Rhys glanced at the photos but Feyre pointedly looked away.

They ate a simple lunch and to take everyone's mind of recent events, Cassian bullied them into playing cards, which did seem to lift everyone's spirits. Even Feyre had laughed a little after hardly speaking all morning.

* * *

Both Rhys and Feyre were in the sitting room, both pretending to read, when they heard the a thump from the hallway. The letter box had been pushed open and a piece of metal, with a note attached, had been forced through, scraping the paintwork on the door as it fell.

**RHYSAND NIGHT**   
**RETURN WHAT YOU HAVE STOLEN OR PUT YOUR AFFAIRS IN ORDER.**   
**YOU HAVE 24 HOURS**

It didn’t take Rhys long to identify the metal as the wall plaque outside his company office.

Feyre was once again rocking side-to-side, the action reminded Rhys of how he had found her. Her bruises and slight frame might now be covered but the emotional damage done by Tamlin was still clear. It only made Rhys more certain that he was doing the right thing.

Putting one hand on her shoulder, he used the other to snap a photo and then get his brothers on speaker phone.

Everyone who looked at the message and reacted in their own way. And whether that was with cool logic, aggression, contained panic, or despair, they were all silent at first.

Az broke that silence, "Can we prove its from Tamlin?"

"Who else could it be from?"

"No. I mean, can we _prove_ it? Can we go to the police?"

Rhys answered, "No we can't. He will have covered his tracks."

“Well, we have 24 hours,” said Cass, “We’ll stick with Tamlin, work out what he is planning.”

“No!” Feyre was shaking as she called down the phone, “Just take me back!”

Rhys cut across her, “See what you can find out by six and then come back here so we can talk properly.” As an afterthought he added, “Bring food,” and then hung up.

With the phone put away he could pull Feyre slowly into him for a hug, wary of the way her eyes darted in all directions and the tension in her muscles. “I will not be the reason you go back to him.” He felt the tremors that threatened to take her legs from under her and held her close. “If you wanted to be with him, I’d take you back myself. But I will not let him coerce you like this.”


	8. Monday 23rd December continued

**Monday 23 rd December continued**

Wet coats and shoes lay abandoned in the hallway. No light from the street entered through the windows, even the light from street lamp beside the house could not fight through the torrent of rain.

The storm that had been threatening for days had finally struck Velaris with its full force at once. It was a night to stay in and listen to the wind and the rain from the comfort of inside. It was an evening for TV and extra blankets.

For most people, at least.

Take away pizzas covered the dining table and all four diners ate from paper napkins or their hands.

They discussed strategy in a way that Feyre found oddly calming. They were not openly afraid, so she would not be either.

Rhys had made it clear that they would not be giving in to any death threats and now the conversation was focused on how to either prove the threat came from Tamlin or catch him in the act.

The latter possibility filled Feyre with dread and turned the pizza in her mouth to cardboard. Wanting to spit out her mouthful but instead forcing herself to swallow it, she surprised everyone by saying, "There could be a way, to prove he is behind it, I mean. If anyone can make this stick to Tamlin then Lucien can."

The others thought it through.

Cassian remembered the slightly hunched way he had seen Lucien walking earlier and the spectrum of colours on his cheek. “He’s probably not Tamlin biggest fan right now, which could help get him talking.”

"We need to stay with Tamlin, closer than before. We need to know when he moves,” Azriel looked at Rhys as he spoke but the next question came from Feyre.

“What about now? Nobody is watching him now.”

Az held up is phone, “I’ve hacked the CCTV in Tamlin’s building, I’ll know when he is on the move.”

“But-”

“And,” he continued, “He picked up a puncture this afternoon, so he will be slow to get going.”

Rhys laughed, "Good. You think Tamlin would… do it himself?" Feyre was shocked that he could talk about a death threat so casually. She wondered if it was for her benefit.

Az nodded, "Yes, it's less complicated that way. He might have help but I doubt he would leave this to someone else."

"And Lucien has already let him down."

"Agreed. He won’t go to Lucien.”

Rhys sat back in his chair. “So if you two are tailing Tamlin, where am I? Talking to Lucien?"

"No Rhys, you should go to the office.”

“What? He’s already vandalised the front of the office, it’s a long way from being a secret hideaway.”

“But the security system there is far better than what you've got here."

"OK, but what about getting evidence against Tamlin? So far this still sounds like waiting to catch him in the act."

"I'll talk to Lucien," said a quiet voice. "It has to be me. Just me; he won't talk to any of you."

"No Feyre. On your own? No, it's too dangerous.” Rhys turned to his brothers. “One of you should go with her to see Lucien."

Az and Cassian exchanged a look full of silent communication. "We both need to follow Tamlin. If there is only one person we're more likely to be spotted, especially at night with less traffic. Two people means we can stay hidden. Two people mean we can keep him from killing you."

Rhys turned back to Feyre, "What if Lucien doesn't agree to help? What if he takes you back to Tamlin?"

Feyre looked intently at her hands, at the table, at anything that wasn’t Rhys. "If he takes me back to Tamlin, then at least this will all be over."

"No. _No_ , I won't allow it. Find a different plan."

"We don't have time Rhys, this our best shot.” Rhys’ glare didn’t stop Azriel. “Feyre should go by foot and after she's spoken to Lucien she can meet you at the office."

Rhys looked between them all. "What about Mor?"

Feyre took his hands and instantly had his full attention. "I'll be fine. Mor wouldn't be able to help me convince Lucien. I really am better going alone.” There was a new strength burning in her eyes that stole his words away.

Rhys watched, mute, as Feyre turned back to his brothers. “I don’t know the city, I'll need a map with places marked - here, Lucien’s home and Rhys’ office." Az confirmed that he could get her a map and disappeared upstairs to find one. "And I'll need waterproof clothing. Nothing Mor packed will cope with this weather." Cassian nodded and left them alone to look.

She had not yet let go of his hands; he was grateful. "I wish you didn't have to go."

"I know." Silence surrounded them, only broken by the drumming of the rain on the windows. "I wish- I wish you'd never found me. I wish I'd never left!"

"No, no, don't wish that. I just hate that you’re all running around while I'll be sat twiddling my thumbs. I don't want you to get hurt because of me. "

“You don’t want _me_ to get hurt because of _you_? It’s your _life_ that’s on the line because of _me_!" Her voice grew louder with every word but Feyre felt some pride that her eyes stayed dry.

“You’re about to go out, in _this rain_ , to find someone who might help you or might just hand you over to your ex.”

“My _ex_?” Feyre choked.

“I didn’t mean that.”

“Then what did you mean? What did you mean Rhys!? Why are you even helping me?”

Before raised voices could become a full on argument, Rhys' house phone rang. He swore as he crossed to the window to answer it, she headed into the kitchen for a glass of water and stayed there.

As he spoke to Mor, who was the caller with perfect timing, Rhys watched Feyre and wondered how he could tell her how he felt. How important she had become in just a few days.

How he would give anything for her to be safe.

But tonight was quite possibly the worst time to say any of that. After everything she'd been through, Feyre didn't need his emotional baggage on top. And it looked like she wouldn’t believe him now anyway.

Mor was also angry with him.

Rhys pinched the bridge of his nose as he listened to her berate him for not including her in their plan.

Rhys' peace offering was a plea for her to coordinate between everyone and the request to make her flat the 'safe house' if Feyre needed it later that night. She wasn't happy but she was at least subdued by these suggestions.

"You'll be OK, right? He wouldn't actually kill you? Would he?"

Rhys thought about everything Feyre had told him and his own personal history with Tamlin. "I think he might be desperate enough to try."

"This is madness! You have to go to the police."

"We will Mor, as soon as we have evidence. And I'll be fine at the office, it’s like Fort Knox there when all the security systems are on. I won't be able to break wind without setting some alarm off."

Mor huffed, "That's what you get when Azriel designs your security system."

"Or when you plan ahead as well as I do."

"You're claiming you saw this coming? Don't be ridiculous.” He could hear her smile down the phone.

Rhys chuckled. "Everything's going to be fine Mor, stay in touch with Cass and Az, and update me if you can. This will all be over by Christmas."

"I hope so Rhys."

* * *

Before eight o’clock, Feyre was dressed in a mixture of clothes from both Mor and Rhys; he had the better waterproofs and the weather had turned dire.

They all stood together, squeezed into the kitchen, but she couldn’t look at Rhys.

He wouldn’t ask her not to go but he didn’t need to when his face said it all.

The row, if that's what it was, had blown up over nothing – it didn’t change how she felt about him. But she couldn’t trust herself to talk to him now. Not without losing the conviction the last half hour had given her.

Azriel was the perfect calming influence. He hadn’t asked questions but gave her advice and let her ask her own questions until she felt prepared.

This was her mess. She would go out and fix it. Or try, at the very least.

Strangely, she wasn’t worried about Lucien. After their talk yesterday she felt sure he could be turned to their side.

But this was a city she had seen mostly from behind a window. And now she needed to navigate in the dark and the rain from here to Lucien’s home, and then on the meet Rhys.

“OK,” she said, more to herself. “I need to go.”

“Feyre-”

Still fiddling with the raincoat, she cut across him, “It’s fine, Rhys. We can talk later.”

Azriel looked between them and added, “She should get to your office before eleven.”

Feyre bit her lip and nodded to Az. “OK,” she repeated and then finally gave in and looked at Rhys. His eyes were impossibly dark, no longer showing any hint of purple.

Feyre couldn’t read the storm of emotions in his gaze but she felt they held the same promise of passion and violence as the storm outside.

“I’ll be fine,” she whispered and left by the kitchen door, which Azriel had suggested in case anyone was watching the front.

* * *

The next twenty minutes were a taste of what Rhys had to come.

Time seemed to slow much like the rain outside flowed away slower as the drains were overwhelmed with water. 

Rhys and Azriel delayed as long as they could before leaving too, this time by the front door. To anyone watching, it would look as though Cassian had stayed behind with Feyre.

Of course, Cass would also leave, in another twenty minutes, but by then Feyre would be too far from the townhouse to be found.

At the office, Az continued on alone to find Tamlin, leaving Rhys with nothing to do by wait.

And doing nothing was far harder than he had expected, growing harder still when 11pm came and went with no Feyre in sight.

* * *

Rhys continued to pace, convinced that the fabric of the carpet was wearing thin beneath his feet and that the company should replace all the clocks immediately after he holiday because they _must_ all be wrong.

How the fuck had the day ended like this - with him, alone, at the office and the others out who knows where?

As midnight approached, Rhys realised he had been awake now for over 24 hours. Sleep, however, was out of the question. He could never allow himself to sleep knowing she was still out there.

The wind blew another round of hail against the windows, like gunshots to his frayed nerves. Rhys’ hands formed fists. Into this epic, end-of-the-world weather they had sent Feyre.

And she had not come back.


	9. Tuesday 24th December

**Tuesday 24 th December **

The thick layers of clouds were a dark, inky blue, almost black in places, except when the daggers of internal lightning lit them up from inside. Then, the sky glowed pink for a moment. Still, it was not enough light to see a person on the street, even if someone had looked down from their window instead of up at the sky.

But no one was looking.

The grates and drains hissed angrily with the incessant downpour. Puddles from both sides of the street joined forces to flood the defenceless road between them, forming rivers where there had never been rivers before.

And _still_ the rain fell hard, showing no signs of ceasing. The wind too hammered at the windows and doors so that even the most careful of listeners would not have heard the regular rhythm of footsteps on the street.

But no one was listening.

A nearby clock chimed for a third and final time. 3am. Most people had long since gone to bed. Feyre crossed the street, looking up briefly for cars, long brown hair stuck to her cheeks.

She pulled the borrowed coat tightly around her slight frame but she had been walking for so long that she no longer left the benefit of her clothes as a barrier against the weather. Every raindrop, and there were many, seemed to stab right through to her skin; ice cold needles penetrating deep into her body.

Azriel’s map had a route planned out that had taken her along some of the narrower streets in Velaris, no doubt to make her harder to follow. To Feyre the houses seemed to grow taller and lean in, over the pavement, the further she walked. The clouds too appeared to descend, shrinking the sky. It wasn’t so much that the walls were closing in, but that the _world_ was.

The map was a lifeline. She viewed it as she would a work of art, focusing in on one detail at a time. This left turn, that road, cross here, now right, …

Yet it still took much longer than Az had predicted. He hadn’t factored in the way being outside, alone and hunted would affect her mind and body.

Feyre stumbled when her knees locked and startled when a drenched animal darted out from nowhere. She lost countless minutes trying to cross the road, when her cold muscles seized and refused to take her any further.

But a once lost stubbornness had kept her going. That, and the memories from just a few days with Rhys, a belief that a life worth fighting for could be out there waiting.

She was almost there. She pictured the map in her mind.

Keep walking. Stay hidden. Find Rhys.

* * *

It had been hours since he had heard from his brothers or cousin and even longer since anyone had seen or heard from Feyre. In the three hours since midnight, pacing had not been enough. Two over-turned desks would attest to that. He was on edge.

So when the buzzer from the front door went Rhys was there to open it in a heartbeat. _Feyre_.

Not caring that she was wet, not caring that he'd only known her a few days, Rhys pulled her inside and held her tight against him, pressing his lips to her neck, breathing in her scent. His heart slowly returned to a steady rhythm after hours of anxiety. Hers too.

He pulled back and noticed the violent shivers starting in her chest and passing down through every limb; he led her back into the main room. “You’re freezing, you need to change. There are spare clothes-”

“No, ‘m fine,” she mumbled from between teeth that were glued shut.

Rhys pushed an armful of clothing into her hands. “You’ll get ill. Look, see that door? It’s a toilet. Get changed and there will be a hot drink waiting when you get back.” He smiled, “You’ll look ridiculous but there is no one here to see but me.”

She found out what he meant a few minutes later when she picked out items from the pile she had been given. It was a real mixture of work wear and casual. Most, she thought, belonged to Rhys, others reminded her more of Cassian’s style. All, however, were men’s clothes and for men much taller than she was.

It took ten minutes to peel off wet clothing, one layer at a time, dry herself and then dress. Feyre rolled up the sleeves of a shirt and repeatedly folded the ends of each trouser leg until she could walk without falling. She spent a few minutes attempting to dry her hair under the hand drier, before deciding to plait it and twist the lot up onto her head.

Rhys beamed as he handed her a large mug of tea. "You have no idea how good it is to see you."

"I think I probably do," she replied, glancing at the window and the night beyond.

He nodded and gestured to a pair of office chairs. "Did you get to Lucien?"

"Yes," Feyre whispered, remembering his stunned face at the door, the way he looked _everywhere_ before speaking and then only in a whisper. He was expecting a trap - from Rhys or Tamlin, even he wasn't sure. It had taken longer than she had hoped to get inside.

They talked and cried and Feyre had needed to start at the very beginning but she knew he believed her now, every word. 

He wanted her to run, claimed that no where in Velaris would be safe. And Feyre had to hold back her own instinct, which was also to run. Eventually though, Lucien agreed to help, promising to go straight to Tamlin's work office and transfer anything he could to Azriel.

That had been hours ago. She summarised the conversation for Rhys but left out every part of the journey here - when the city itself seemed to want to keep them apart. 

When she'd grown quiet again, Rhys toed off his shoes, "For your feet, so they don't get cold."

“There is no point Rhys, they’re too big.”

“Please,” he said pushing the shoes right up to her. She slipped her feet inside and smiled; there was room to swing a cat in these shoes.

“They’re too big,” she repeated.

“We could fill them with paper,” and he was up, out of his seat in search of a newspaper, before he'd finished speaking.

“Rhys! Stop.” Feyre shook her head and laughed. An hour ago she would not have believed that she would ever laugh again, but his fussing had put her at ease.

“Ok,” he smiled too, a clumpy, embarrassed sort of smile and gazed at her. Even looking like the world’s worst advert for a jumble sale, she was beautiful.

Following an impulse that he could not ignore, Rhys crossed back to Feyre and pulled her once more into a hug. She, realising that this one was for him, hugged him back gladly. “I was worried that you wouldn't get here,” he admitted, in a whisper against her shoulder. “I thought I’d lost you.”

When she stepped back to see his face, Feyre felt as though she had a direct link to his soul, that she could feel everything he felt.

He whispered, “Stay with me?”

“Yes.” She didn’t ask how long he wanted her to stay for, it didn’t matter. For however long he would have her, she was his.

Rhys pressed a kiss to her forehead and she saw the way his eyes flicked down to her mouth. Did he want to kiss her? Did she was to kiss him back?

She felt suddenly very warm for a person who had recently been at risk of hypothermia. Her cheeks flushed but before she could do more than edge fractionally closer to him the phone began to ring.

Rhys rushed to answer it. “She’s here and Lucien is going to help,” he said before waiting to hear who was calling.

“That’s great!” Rhys could hear Cassian relaying the message on to Az in the background. “So Tamlin’s been at his apartment for nearly two hours now. All the lights are off and he seems to have gone to bed. We’re thinking he’s all talk, or at least that he’s not planning anything for tonight. Maybe the weather put him off?”

Rhys frowned, “Maybe.” He knew Tamlin’s temper didn’t cool off this fast, rain or no rain. He looked up at Feyre, now watching him with concern, and smiled - no need to worry her.

“So Az reckons you can both head home. He’ll meet you there and I'll do the night shift outside Tamlin’s place.”

“Hmm, you’re sure?” As Cassian continued to reassure Rhys and their conversation drew to an end, Feyre tried to read the situation from Rhys’ expression alone. She could tell he was worried despite his smile.

She was not expecting him to say, “Time to go home,” when he’d hung up the phone.

“What? What about Tamlin?”

“Out for the count, apparently. And if he is getting some sleep then we should too.”

“Is it safe?”

Rhys ran a hand though his hair, “Az seems to think so but he’s meeting us there just in case. We _can_ stay here, if you’d prefer.”

Feyre thought it over. “How would we get home?”

Rhys had to surpress the bubble of happiness that tried to surface at her using the word ‘home’. “We have a company car here, I’ll drive us back, return it after the holiday.”

 _Christmas_ , wow, he’d almost forgotten.

Feyre shifted on her double-socked feet; that familiar side-to-side motion. Rhys returned to her, putting both hands on her shoulders. “We won’t do anything that you’re not comfortable with.”

“Do you think Tamlin has given up?”

He sighed. “Honestly? No. But I think we’re ok to go home. And some rest would be good for both of us. Az can keep watch.”

Finally, Feyre nodded.

* * *

Back in the townhouse, it was hard not feel like the worst was over. Standng close together in the sitting room, Rhys reached out a hand and brushed the loose hair away from her eyes, letting his thumb trace the edge of her face.

He wanted so much to ask her to stay with him tonight, in his room, just to keep her close. But already she was at risk by being near him and only hours ago she'd ventured out alone into a city under siege by the weather to get evidence to help _him_.

He had no right to ask any more from her. She wasn’t _his_.

Feyre studied his expression and smiled. Feyre had often felt that Rhys could read her mind, like she was simply shouting her thoughts at him across an invisible bridge. But right then it was _her_ who understood completely. “I’ll stay with you.”

He let out a shaky breath and lightly ran his fingers down her neck. The phone rang and this time Feyre jumped to answer it, “It’ll be Cassian.”

She sent him another beautiful smile from beside the window as she picked up the receiver. “Hello. Hello?” The dial tone echoed eerily down the phone and Feyre shrugged, returning it to its original position, “No one there.”

Rhys felt this stomach clench and his body start to move before his brain had had time to catch up, “Feyre! Come away!”

He reached her just as the window exploded into an army of glass shards. Ducking his head and twisting his body to act as a shield for Feyre. Both were knocked to the ground and winded. Rhys turned quickly, checked them over for injuries. Just minor cuts, until-

“Feyre! Your leg.”

But Feyre said nothing, she could hear only the roar in her head of a thousand thoughts shouting, too many and too quickly for any one of them to be heard. Her eyes were wide but unfocused and Rhys, not knowing what to do, dragged her out of the room. 

They were followed by the cruel wind now blowing in through the empty window frames. And Tamlin. 


	10. Tuesday 24th December continued

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note: this chapter contains descriptions of serious injuries.

**Tuesday 24th December continued**

Rhys heard the crunch of boots on broken glass and propped Feyre, conscious but not responding, at the foot of the stairs. 

He turned in time to see Tamlin framed in the doorway.

Pushing the concern for Feyre behind how angry he was about the damage Tamlin was causing to his life and to his home, Rhys shook his head and raised his eyebrows at the intruder. 

"If you needed to have a chat Tamlin, there were easier ways to do it." 

"Don't pretend you didn't start this when you stole my fiancé and set your guard dog brothers to follow me around and damage my property." 

"Fiancé. That's an interesting choice of word, don't you think?" Tamlin's cheeks flushed slightly. "And if we're talking about damage to property, I think I win." 

"You _always_ think you win Rhysand, you're too arrogant to think otherwise."

"You want to throw cheap insults around? Fine. But I have criminal charges to lay at your door. I'm not even talking about the death threat or your little trick with the window back there. We're talking people trafficking - the buying and selling of _people_ , like they are just a commodity. I actually wouldn't have believed it, even of you, if Feyre hadn't told me herself. "

For the first time Tamlin's eyes seemed to settle on Feyre, glancing down from her face to her right leg, where the blood had soaked through the oversized trousers and had started to pool on the floor around her. 

Az would be here any moment. _Any moment._ Just keep him talking. "How did it start Tam?" 

"You think I'm stupid? Whatever evidence you _think_ you have - it dies with her and soon by the looks of it."

Rhys felt the grimace and tried to pull it back, holding the suggestion of Feyre dying at a distance. But Tamlin saw - he saw the pain and he laughed. 

"Rhysand! You haven't gone and fallen in love with her?" And he laughed again, louder. 

Loud enough to break through to Feyre, who blinked and took in the two men standing before her. _What was so funny?_

"If you wanted to keep her, you should have just made me an offer." 

"OK, how much? I'll want a discount for the damage to my home though."

Her nose burned with sudden tears. _They were bartering? Over her?_

Just as her eyes slipped closed again, she saw what neither of them did: a shadow moving silently through the sitting room behind Tamlin. 

Rhys didn't see his brother until Azriel had knocked Tamlin across the back of his head and swept his legs out from under him. 

Rhys didn't wait; he turned immediately back to Feyre and left Az to secure Tamlin.

She was the most pale Rhys had ever seen her, with an almost grey tinge to her skin and lips. He wiped the sweat from her forehead with a trembling hand. " _Feyre_." His voice was hoarse. "Az!" 

"I'm here. She's going into shock."

This was a new, sharper fear, like nothing he had already felt over the last few days. Sharp as the pocket knife Azriel was using to cut away the blood soaked trouser leg. 

Having moved Feyre so that she was now lying down, Az said, “She needs a tourniquet, here," he pointed three inches above a deep gash in her thigh, where bright red blood was leaving her body in bursts. "Use these. Make it tight, it needs to stop the bleeding." 

Rhys nodded wordlessly and fumbled with the strip of material in his hands and the pocket knife, trying to remember what first aid training he’d had as Az disappeared behind him.

His brother returned just as Rhys finished, checked the tourniquet was secure and wrote the time onto Feyre’s skin, higher on her leg, in biro. "Good. I called emergency services as I arrived, so they should be almost here by now. I'll meet them in the street and bring them straight in.” A hand gripped his shoulder, “ _Rhys_ , it will be OK. Keep talking to her."

It didn't feel like anything would ever be OK again. 

With the flow of blood now seeming to have stopped, he calmed enough to speak."Feyre, I don't know if you can hear me but I hope you can. Tamlin is _never_ going to hurt you again, no one will. I promise. You're _free_."

Rhys remembered telling her that before, on Thursday - _only five days ago_. She had been hurt then but not like this... Would she have been safer if he hadn't brought her home that day? 

"I don't know if I made the right call Feyre," he said with tears on his face now. "I'm sorry. I wanted to help but maybe I made everything worse. You told Lucien that you were sleepwalking through life and that's exactly it, that's exactly how I felt until _you_. You've woken me up Feyre and I lo-" 

"Rhys! They're here!" Rhys turned towards his brother's voice, now getting closer and bringing others with him.

The paramedic team worked quickly and had Feyre on a stretcher in not time. Just as quickly, another team assessed the now slowly-reviving Tamlin and released him into police custody. 

Climbing back to his feet, Rhys spoke quietly to his brother. "Go with her." Azriel frowned but didn’t argue. He jumped up into the ambulance just before the doors slammed shut. 

Rhys stumbled to the kitchen sink, knowing he wouldn't make it upstairs, and emptied his stomach right down to the bile. 

He slid down to the floor and put his head in his hands. He’d done what little he could to make things right and now only others had the power to save her.

She’d be safer with Az, Rhys thought, and safer _without_ _him_ and his selfish decisions.


	11. Still Tuesday 24th December

**Still Tuesday 24** ** th ** **December**

Time was an abstract concept. Exactly how much of it had gone by, he wasn't sure. 

It had been Mor who had put her arms around him gently, as Rhys sat on the kitchen floor and told him, in a voice he knew never to argue with, that it was time to stand up. 

On shaky feet, he had done as he was told. Looking at her in confusion as she told him that Az and Cassian were at the hospital already and now it was time for them to go there too. 

In his calm, caught-out-of-time state he had not forgotten Feyre but he had forgotten how to act. Mor took his hand and hid her concern for him. She'd never seen her cousin look like this, like he was struggling to understand what was happening. 

Reaching the hallway, Rhys stopped. There was blood everywhere but mostly at the bottom of the stairs. Feyre's blood. It was on his clothes too, he realised. 

With a jolt his mind seemed to rejoin the present and he looked at Mor clearly again. 

"Is she alive?" 

"Yes. She's in surgery now, they say they need to repair an artery but the surgeon thinks it was only punctured not severed so-" 

"Will she be OK?" Rhys interrupted, gripping her arm much harder than he had meant to, though he was unaware of this. What he _did_ know was just how much he needed her answer to be 'yes'.

Mor chose her words carefully, "It's not a quick procedure Rhys and she lost a lot of blood but yes, they think she will be OK."

He slumped against the wall, still holding tight to her arm. "I should be there." 

"Well yeah, that's why I'm here," and she offered him a smile that he almost returned. 

Rhys looked again at his clothes, "I can't go like this."

"I got you a change of clothes, they're in the car already. So can we go now?" 

He nodded and let Mor lead the way. 

* * *

They reached the hospital and found Az soon after they arrived. 

Feyre was still in surgery and would be for another hour at least, he told them, and then she'd be moved to recovery. They would be told when it was ok to see her.

“The tourniquet saved her life,” Az said.

“Thank God you were there.”

“You tied it Rhys, you did well. You don’t need to be so hard on yourself.”

Rhys looked away. “I need to change my clothes.” He left his family without another word and they watched him go before beginning to talk about how he was, or _wasn’t_ , coping with everything that had happened. 

* * *

Breakfast time had come and gone. Feyre had a private room and though she had not regained consciousness, all the signs were good for her making a full recovery.

Rhys and Mor had stayed at the hospital while Azriel and Cassian had returned to the townhouse to board up the windows. They also hoped to do something about the blood, not wanting their brother to go home to that sight even if Feyre was getting better.

As Rhys walked back from the hot drinks machine, empty handed because it was out of order, he expected to see Mor in the chair looking at her phone, as he had left her. But instead he found her at the door.

“She’s awake.”

His eyes snapped to the bed and found Feyre’s grey-blue eyes already staring at him.

“Hey,” Rhys breathed, sitting down gently on the edge of her bed. “Do you know where you are?”

She nodded, “Mor told me what happened.” Rhys noticed her quick glance down, at the leg which was now heavily wrapped in bandages.

“The doctor will want to see you but they’ve said you will probably be discharged later today. So you’ll be home for Christmas.” He couldn’t help smiling, even though he wasn’t expecting a smile back. He wasn’t expecting anger either.

“And is that what you wanted for Christmas, Rhys? Me? Am I your prize or something?”

Words failed him as he opened and shut is mouth uselessly. When she only continued to scowl did he add quietly, “Have I done something wrong?”

“I’m tired,” Feyre replied and rolled onto her side, facing away from Rhys.

Only Mor could see her face, see the tight line of her lips and the tears which escaped somehow in defiance of her eyelids, which were squeezed shut. When Rhys went to speak, Mor shook her head. Though it hurt to see his face fall and shoulders slump, _time_ was what Feyre needed now, not words.

* * *

“Stop pacing.” It wasn’t a request so Rhys halted beside the door and looked through the window to where Feyre was talking privately with the doctor. 

“What are they saying?”

Mor sighed, “I don’t know Rhys, could you _please_ calm down.”

“But she’s not herself.”

“Would you be? Come on, give her time. She’s been through years of hell, had all her freedom taken away. And now she can add physical trauma alongside mental trauma. The very definition of a bad day don't you think? So if she snaps at you then you have to take it. If she wants to talk to the doctor in private, you have to respect that.”

The door opened and the doctor came out, smiling. “Feyre is going to be discharged, it will take an hour or so to get the paperwork done but then you can take her home. She has a course of antibiotics for the next 24 hours and pain relief for the next 5 days.”

Rhys nodded and looked towards Feyre, but she wouldn't meet his eye.

* * *

Feyre had refused the wheelchair, so she stood with a crutch under one arm and a paper bag filled with medication under the other. 

She moved towards the door and then stopped, but not beside Rhys. She stopped by Mor. 

"Can I come home with you?" 

Over Feyre's shoulder, Mor saw Rhys' mouth fall open and heard his gasp of "Feyre?" 

She bit her lip, knowing what this would do to her cousin but also knowing that his needs didn't come first today. When all of this was over and he looked back on today, she hoped that Rhys would agree. 

"Of course. Let me take your meds for you." 

As she passed Rhys, Mor touched his elbow briefly; silent communication had always been easy between them but he seemed so far away today.

He couldn't let them go; Rhys found his voice when they were half way down the corridor. "Feyre! _Please_ , don't." 

They didn't stop and Feyre didn't reply. Rhys was ready to get down and beg but he didn't.

He watched them go. 

In the car, Mor said, “I’m not sure what I have in the way of food at home, we might need to choose between cheese on toast or beans on toast. _Or_ ,” she added, in a flash of genius, “ _cheese on beans on toast_!”

Feyre smiled weakly, “Do you think we could do beans on cheese on toast?”

Mor grinned, “Oh, I think we can manage that. This is going to be great!”

Watching out the window, Feyre saw reminders of Rhys everywhere, houses that were similar to his, a view of the mountains where they had walked, even a violet painted front gate reminded her of his eyes. 

“Will Rhys be ok?” she asked in a whisper.

“Rhys’ll be fine and right now the only person you should be thinking about is yourself.” Feyre nodded but in whatever direction her mind wandered, it always quickly found its way back to Rhys. 

* * *

Cassian stayed after the window was repaired, stayed to meet Rhys as he got back from the hospital. He would have stayed overnight too, but Rhys sent him away. He needed to think. 

And so Rhys sat down in the ruined sitting room, alone, and was still there as Christmas eve turned into Christmas day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter to come. Thank you so much to everyone who has left kudos or a comment - it is brilliant to hear if you're enjoying the story, what it's making you feel or where in the world you are reading this :) So thanks again.


	12. Wednesday 25th December ~ Christmas Day

**Wednesday 25th December ~ Christmas Day**

Rhys woke from a light doze in the sitting room armchair - waking there for the second morning that week. The sound of the front door had woken him, as Azriel and Cassian had let themselves in.

"Hey sleepyhead," Az said as he passed by on his way to the kitchen, carrying bags of food. 

Cassian also carried bags, his filled with gifts. "You look like shit."

"Merry Christmas to you too," Rhys grumbled.

Cass laughed, "Christmas starts when you've had more sleep, in a _bed_ this time."

"Really Rhys, you haven't had more than a few hours’ sleep at a time for most of the last week," Az said, leaning in the kitchen doorway. "We'll sort the Christmas Dinner while you rest."

Rhys nodded, he didn't even have the energy to argue. 

"And have a shower - you stink!" Cassian called after him as he went.

* * *

The smell of food woke him next, this time at midday. And, much as he hated to admit it, he did feel significantly better. 

The shower helped too. 

When he re-entered the sitting room, it had been transformed. No more glass on the floor, no signs of a break in - even the boarded up windows had been disguised with wrapping paper. Cassian had strung up lights along the walls and Azriel had decorated the dining table with a tablecloth, candles and crackers. 

Rhys had to smile despite his still-lingering melancholy. "This looks great, thank you. Can I help with anything? The food?" 

"No, it's all under control,” Az smiled, “Just relax."

Cassian risked a whispered question. "How's Feyre?" 

Rhys looked back at him blankly, "How would I know?" 

"She's fine," said Az from across the room, "She slept well and the pain meds are doing their job. She's even a bit more upbeat than she was yesterday."

They both stared at him. 

"What? I don't have superpowers or anything - I just rang Mor and asked her." He left them, shaking his head and laughing under this breath. 

Rhys smiled too. _She was going to be OK._

He'd heard people talk about soulmates, finding the person that you're _meant_ to be with, but he'd never believed it. Never really believed he would be with anyone, never mind a soulmate. 

Now everything was different. Now he felt like there _was_ someone out there, someone he'd been looking for without knowing it. And yet the outcome would be the same - he would still end up alone. Because however much he wanted Feyre, he would never make her stay; and she didn’t want him.

But that was fine, because she was going to be OK - that's all that mattered.

Really. 

* * *

Everything was ready but Azriel was stalling. “No yet, I'm not quite ready to serve.”

A knock at the door echoed off every wall and somehow also the inside of Rhys’ head. As Cassian bounded off to answer the door, Rhys felt his chest tighten, knowing who would be on the other side.

"You didn't tell me." 

Az grinned, "You didn't ask," and off he went too, to greet Mor and Feyre in the hallway. 

Rhys sat down at the table - set for five he now noticed. Yesterday's sharp words from Feyre echoed through his mind. _Am I your prize or something?_ Why would she think that?

He wasn't sure he was ready this this, he still didn't understand why everything had changed between them. But he could hear Feyre's voice now, talking with Cassian. And then Mor and Az joined the conversation... He _should_ be out there with them. 

_Stand up_ , he thought. And just as he did get to his feet, he saw Feyre, silhouetted in the doorway. 

Violet eyes met grey. There was too much he wanted to say, so Rhys decided to keep it light, going with, “It’s good to see you."

Feyre's eyes stung with forbidden tears. She remembered the way they had parted yesterday and from the way Rhys was obviously holding back, it was clear that he remembered too. 

She wanted to make things OK between them but she could still hear him saying _how much?_ on a loop in her head as she looked at him, _how much? I'll want a discount for the damage... how much?_

So in the end, all she could say was, "You too," and then she was limping away from him, through to the kitchen and out of sight. 

Mor joined her a moment later, resting a hand on Feyre’s shoulder, "Talk to him.”

"I can't, it's like he's a completely different person. I feel like I've lost-” she forced herself to finish, albeit in a whisper, “lost my best friend." 

Mor tipped her head to the side, "Different how?"

"When he was talking to Tamlin, it was like… like I didn't even know him. I never really knew him."

Taking her hand, Mor said, "Look, I wasn't there but I'll bet both of you were scared and just doing the best you could to stay alive. If you want to know the _real Rhys_ , think about all the other times you spent together," Mor squeezed her hand, " _Talk_ to him, tell him how you're feeling." 

Feyre felt sick at that idea - revealing her feelings, being that vulnerable with _anyone.._. And with her leg the way it was, she couldn't easily get up and walk away if the conversation was too much. She'd be trapped and exposed. 

No way. That was _not_ going to happen. 

* * *

The meal was awkward, none of them would argue with that. But as they ate, conversation gradually became more natural and Rhys could see that, with the rest of his family, Feyre was almost her normal self. 

Just not with him. 

Washing up with Mor, Rhys struggled to find the enthusiasm for a smile. She splashed him, "Come on, it is Christmas, you know. You’re allowed to look happy."

"Hmm."

"And you can drop the kicked puppy routine; you'll both get through this.” He didn’t answer, “Look, if you're thinking she hates you, which clearly you are, you can stop that right now." 

Rhys looked up at her and Mor, taking pity on her cousin, repeated, "She doesn't hate you. She's overwhelmed, that all. In fact," she added, eyes twinkling, "I'd bet she loves you too." 

"I'd take that bet," chipped in Cassian, appearing in the doorway, "She _obviously_ loves you back," he grinned and disappeared.

Rhys ignored Cassian's 'words of wisdom' but felt reassured by what Mor had said. 

And soon all five were once more gathered together, with Rhys sitting down last in the space left for him, which just so happened to be beside Feyre.

When it was time to exchange gifts and Rhys held out a wrapped package to Feyre, her cheeks flushed. 

“But I don’t have anything for you.”

“That you are getting better and planning your future is the best gift anyone could give me. I only want you to be healthy and happy, Feyre.”

She gazed at him for a moment, eyes wide, and then threw her arms around his neck. The present was forgotten. 

"I’m sorry for what I said at the hospital and for going home with Mor and for not talking to you. I’ve felt so…” she tried to pull away but Rhys, surprised at first, now held her close.

“Felt so?”

She sighed and relaxed fully in his arms, “Confused? When I woke up in hospital, I hated you, like I hate Tamlin. I convinced myself that you were just like him when I had no reason to. I jumped to conclusions and ignored all the signs that you were trying to help.

“And then as soon as you’d gone, I missed you. Missed you like I’ve known you for years, like I can’t be ok without you.

“I can’t keep up with my feelings, they keep changing, and you shouldn’t have to put up with that - I’m sorry.” 

Rhys leaned back so he could look at her, “Feyre, think about your leg. You’ve had a serious injury, physical trauma, and now you’re being careful. You have the crutch to take the weight of that leg and you have medication for the pain. But mostly you’re being patient and giving your body time to heal. Because it’s easy to see the problem, it's easy to understand how to fix it. 

“You’re mind has been through just as much - more, probably, because it’s been a long time since your life has been 'normal', for the want of a better word. You can’t see the hurt, but it _is_ there and you still need to be patient. Give yourself time. 

“And umm,” he laughed softly, “I can be your crutch, if you like. If you need help with anything, I’m here.”

She leaned in and kissed him lightly on the cheek. “Thank you.”

He offered the gift to her again and this time she took it. Rhys had never seen anybody remove wrapping paper so carefully. He almost couldn't stand the wait. Then:

Feyre stared down at the box of paints and brushes, speechless.

“I was thinking, when you're better, you could spend a week at the cabin and just paint.” It sounded dumb now that he was saying it aloud. 

“Would you come with me? I mean, would you want to?” 

When he didn’t answer. She looked up.

He was watching her, smiling, “Yes, I'd want to go with you. I want to be wherever you are, Feyre.”

He suddenly realised that the others had slipped away while he had been focused on Feyre, and silently he thanked them. 

“I'm sorry too, for everything that has happened to you and for my part in it.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for, you saved my life Rhys and no," she said, stopping him before he could pass the burden of praise onto Azriel, "I don't mean your first aid skills. You _found_ _me_. The person I buried deep down inside so that no matter what, Tamlin would _never_ have the real me. You've given me my life back."

Feeling shy, Feyre looked away, twisting her fingers in her lap. "The night you held me while I slept, you said something. You thought I was asleep, I _almost_ was but I heard you. You told me it felt like you were looking for me that day, without knowing it. Do… do you still think that?" 

She looked up this time into eyes that were much darker than before. His face was softer now as well, relaxed. 

"I _know_ I was meant to find you Feyre, I'm more sure now than ever." His eyes dropped to her lips for a moment and then he gently cradled her face in his hands, slowly leaning in. She met him halfway. 

Feyre laughed into his kiss as the sound of whooping and clapping came from the doorway behind them. Rhys ignored his family completely and just went on kissing her. 

**The End**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it folks for now.  
> I originally planned 4 chapters and then I got carried away :) I hope you have enjoyed reading it.  
> I might do an epilogue at the cabin - something a bit more fluffy than this has been.  
> But that is an idea for the future, not now, because I have other stories I need to work on.  
> See you next time!  
> Etta

**Author's Note:**

> All comments very welcome. 
> 
> Hope you're enjoying this less fluffy festive story :) Do let me know.


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